


Quiet

by taylor_tut



Category: MASH (TV)
Genre: Drabble, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Sick Hawkeye, Sickfic, sick hawkeye pierce
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-18
Updated: 2019-02-18
Packaged: 2019-10-30 21:19:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17836409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taylor_tut/pseuds/taylor_tut
Summary: A little drabble request from my Tumblr. Hawkeye has strep and Father Mulcahey makes sure he's got a quiet place to rest.





	Quiet

Hawkeye had taken to sitting in the tent in which they normally held mass just for a quick break from everything and, more importantly, everyONE. Two days ago, he’d woken up with a bad sore throat that had only gotten worse until now he was pretty sure that he was running a fever, if the headache and chills were anything to judge by, and the day had been exhausting. He might have mentioned it to someone if they weren’t so busy, but the past few days, even before he’d gotten sick which probably had a lot to do with just how bad he was feeling now, had been a constant stream of wounded soldiers to patch up. When they’d finally gotten a break, he’d looked forward to crawling straight into bed and getting some sleep, but when he’d goten back to the Swamp, Charles had been playing records and BJ was tearing apart his side of the room looking for a book that Margaret had lent him and wanted back, so he knew that there was no chance of falling asleep there. Instead of trying to guilt them into being quiet (because he knew that it wouldn’t work), he’d decided to just take sanctuary in the one place where that was legally enforcible: the “church.” He’d just about drifted off to sleep lying across a row of chairs when he was woken by footsteps and a small, startled gesture. 

“Oh, Hawkeye,” Father Mulcahy said, “I didn’t expect to see you here.” He wanted to apologize for being in the way, but he knew that speaking would be hell on his throat, so he decided to save it.

“I’m just about to begin open hours for confession, as always,” he continued. Damn, Hawkeye had forgotten that this would be the time that Padre accepted walk-in confessions, but since people rarely took advantage of it, anyway, he figured that it didn’t really matter. “Did you need something?” 

“Just a quiet place to nap,” Hawkeye replied, wincing at the pain in his throat. Instead of going away or telling Hawkeye to leave, Padre took a few steps forward and took a knee next to his makeshift bed. 

“You sound terrible,” he noted, taking one of Hawkeye’s hands and helping him to sit up against his will. He pressed a hand to his forehead and his eyebrows knitted in concern and sympathy. “And you’ve got a fever.” Hawkeye forced a smile.

“Which one of us is the doctor again?” he asked, and Padre shook his head. 

“Don’t talk so much,” he scolded gently, and before Hawkeye could make the joke, he cut him off. “And yes, I know that’s not the first time you’ve heard that before.” Hawkeye smiled and allowed himself to be led to Padre’s tent, where he was sat down on the bed gently. 

“Padre, you don’t have to—”

“Really, Hawkeye, please save your voice,” he commanded. “You’ll need it if more wounded come in.” The man had a gift for reading people so strong that it sometimes seemed more like he was reading minds. The easiest way to get Hawkeye to stop arguing and obey was to make him feel guilty about the alternative. 

“Take your shoes off,” he suggested, untying the laces when Hawkeye didn’t move immediately to do so but backing off when he took over. “You should be able to rest in here. It’s quiet. I’m going to be out and about anyway, so it’s no trouble. Just get some rest, alright?” 

Hawkeye couldn’t help but smile, even if he was rolling his eyes a little at the fawning. 

“Thanks,” he rasped, feeling sleep begin to wash over him almost immediately in the warm bed and the quiet room. God, he was so tired. He owed Padre big time. 

“Shout if you need anything,” Padre joked, staying in the doorway only until Hawkeye got settled under the covers and stopped moving around. All of them were overworked, but sometimes he really felt that Hawkeye got the worst of it since he was so hesitant to drop the class clown act and take a real minute for himself, and even when he did, it was almost always interrupted. He needed it, Mulcahy knew, and if he was able to grant him a little bit of peace for even just a few hours: well, that’s what he was here for, after all. He’d be happy with that for the moment. 


End file.
